


There’s a Schedule for a Reason

by Hellocaptain



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Aged Up, Big Dick Richie Tozier, Bottom Eddie, Canon Divergence, Future Angst, I think?, M/M, Richie is a nerd, Voyeurism, porn with a plot, track!eddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:14:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23645995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellocaptain/pseuds/Hellocaptain
Summary: There's a schedule. There's been a schedule for three years now and Richie has never deviated. Tuesdays, Thursdays, Friday, and Saturday are the days Eddie lets Richie sneak in through the window and sleepover—————Or the one day Richie breaks routine and his life is flipped upside down (and gets his brains fucked out of him).
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 15
Kudos: 158





	There’s a Schedule for a Reason

There's a schedule. There's been a schedule for three years now and Richie has never deviated. Tuesdays, Thursdays, Friday, and Saturday are the days Eddie lets Richie sneak in through the window and sleepover. 

Richie has been sneaking in for practically ages. He's pretty sure that as soon as he learned to ride a bike he was over at the Kaspbrak residence, scrambling up the lattice under Eddie's window. After that summer though, Richie took to slipping in during the night. Having someone there made the nightmares a little more bearable. Shadows were just shadows and the house settling was just the house settling when Eddie was next to him. And Eddie, as far as Richie knew, didn't mind Richie being there- as long as he was out of there before Mrs. K woke up. Richie also never failed to come on the days he was allowed over, even after he grew like 11 inches in one night and the window frame became rather hard to squeeze through. 

But Richie left his fucking lettermen’s jacket there last night. And this would normally be fine, he would just get it in the morning usually. But guess fucking what? He had a goddamn varsity math marathon tomorrow and Mr. Reymond required that they matched. By wearing their lettermen's. Nerdy shit. Richie hadn't even realized he’d left it till about ten. He was going to put it in his backpack (Reymond was making wearing the jackets a goddamn quiz grade) and it just wasn't there. Then he remembered it was cold last night and he'd worn it over his PJs when he biked to Eddie's

This is how Richie ended up here at eleven pm on a Wednesday night, staring up at Eddie's window. A soft pink light emanates from the room above. It's a little weird. Eddie is usually in bed with the lights off by nine (Richie gets there at eight most nights). He shrugs it off. Wednesdays are youth night at church, Eddie’s mom forces him to go. From what Richie knows it ends at seven-thirty so Eddie's probably finishing up his homework by now. Perfect. He won't have to deal with a bitchy, half-awake best friend. 

Without further ado, he begins to ascend. As he climbs higher, he sees the plain white curtains are mostly drawn, only one strip of rosy glow splitting them. He's reached the top and is about to knock but he stops. What if he's not in the room? Like what if he's taking a shower? Should he wait till the light goes out? He opts to just look through the gap in the curtains. At first, he doesn't see much or notice anything odd. Just the corner of the bed, sheets pulled snuggly over the mattress. And then he notices it. The bed’s moving slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. 

Richie feels the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Eddie was probably stretching. Yeah. That's it. Runners stretch a lot. Right? And Eddie typically runs at night. Yeah. He's probably just stretching. On his bed. In the middle of the night. Definitely. Richie swallows. He should leave. He could just stop by in the morning, grab his jacket and just bolt to get on the bus they were taking to Bangor for the tournament. Fuck. Fuck. He should really leave. But Richie is, of course, a horny teenage boy and he does not leave. It also really doesn't help that its-ya know- Eddie.

Instead of climbing down like the good little Jewish boy, he moves his head to the side, angling it so he can see the entirety of the bed. 

The scene hits him like a truck. He's not ready for it. Nothing could have prepared him for it either. Shit. How could someone even prepare to see something like this? 

Let Richie backtrack a little. There was no way in hell Eddie was stretching and Richie knew that. But like at most he thought all he was potentially going to see was Eddie rubbing himself off. Or just jacking off. That's it. That's all he thought that maybe, potentially, he was going to see. God. He was wrong. So fucking wrong. 

So the scene. Into view first comes Eddie’s thighs, they slid forward and then recede. For some really fucked reason Richie is reminded of the ocean and its tide. From what Richie can tell it looks like Eddie is straddling a pillow. Guess he really is rubbing himself off. That thought simmers in Richie's stomach. He wants to see more. Guilt settles in his ears and his throat. This is creepy. And weird. And totally not ok. Eddie would never talk to him again if he didn't stop now. 

But who said Eddie had to know? 

Richie leans to the right, head tilting further and he sees the whole thing. 

Eddie is straddling a pillow, hips grinding down on it at a slow pace. Baby blue underwear tight over an obviously hard dick. One hand was tangled in the fabric of the pillow, his back arching and straightening with the movement of his hips. But the fucking kicker? Eddie was wearing a jacket, his face buried in the sleeve. Not just any jacket though. Eddie fucking Kaspbrak had his goddamn face buried in the sleeve of Richie Tozier’s fucking lettermen. And he was getting off at the same time. Fuck. Fuck. 

He couldn't tear his eyes away. Eddie's hips swiveled and started going in a circular motion. The sweat on his brow glistened as his head flipped back, eyes screwed shut, mouth opening. Richie heard the moan. Even muffled from the glass but goddamn. God fucking damn. Richie’s dick, if it wasn't hard already, definitely was now. Meanwhile, Eddie moved his hips a little faster, head still up. He brought the sleeve up to his nose and Richie saw his chest expand as Eddie breathed in. 

Fuck. He couldn't take this. 

Throwing caution to the wind he tries the window. It's always open. Always. It slides open easily and kind of quietly. Richie can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Why? Well, on one hand, he can now hear every sound Eddie is making and on the other hand he can hear every sound Eddie is making. Soft puffs of breath and high pitched half-moans. It's too much but God. Oh god. Richie's pants feel like goddamn sandpaper. He stays in the frame for a bit, the window only half-cracked. This is bad. He doesn't know what to do next. For one he really, really doesn't want to stop watching but What. The. Fuck. He wants to ask Eddie so many questions. Actually fuck questions. Richie wants to be that pillow, Eddie on top of him, grinding down like his life fucking depends on it. Fucking fuck fuck fuuuuckk. 

Richie slowly opens up the window and as soundlessly he can he slips into Eddie's room. Maybe it's crossing a line. Maybe he really shouldn't be doing this but dammit, Eddie Kaspbrak is using his jacket to get off. The jacket he needs to wear to a fucking math competition tomorrow. 

Once he's fully standing in the room he doesn't really know what to do next. His dick is hurting so he just kind of holds it through his jeans, trying not to move around or make his situation worse. Eddie lets out a moan, this one a little louder from the rest and Richie's hand tightens over his crotch. God this is weird as fuck. And also hot as fuck, like Richie’s wet dreams could never. Eddie's hips slow and his free hand starts to make its way up his chest. Richie decides now would probably be a good time to stop him. 

He clears his throat but the hand is still moving up. Richie panics and clears his throat louder. 

Eddie's eyes snap open with a yelp as he starts. It's like he tries to stand but his balance is way off and he’s going way too fast so instead he just topples off the bed and onto the floor. Normally Richie would laugh but the movement would just make his uh- burden- worse. So he doesn't. He watches as Eddie pops up, face red and Jacket drawn around his bare chest. 

“What the fuck Richie?!” Eddie hisses. 

“S-sorry.” Is all he can really say back.  
“It's fucking Wednesday. And late. The fuck Tozier. You aren't supposed to be here? What the shit.” 

“But m-my j-” 

“Yeah, well, a heads up would have been nice!” Eddie spits. He doesn't seem to notice Richie’s problem, nor the fact he's still wearing the jacket. 

“Um, Eds-” 

“Don't fucking call me that,” Eddie’s face gets impossibly redder as he mumbles out a “dipshit.” 

Richie raises his hands up, wincing slightly at the loss of pressure, in mock surrender “Ok ok, I won't I just uh,” it's Richie’s turn to go red “I just came to get my jacket.” 

That's when it hits Eddie. His eyes grow wide and he looks like someone just slapped him across the face. A glance down, a glance to Richie, back down again and then a squeak slips past his lips. 

“I-” there's no way Eddie can make an excuse for this and they both know it “h-how long were you-? 

“Um…” Richie runs a hand through his hair. How do you explain to your best friend you were actively watching him get off through his bedroom window? “I- through the window? Not sure how long I- saw.” 

“The window? You were watching,” his voice is a series of squeaks “the whole time?” 

It's hard to tell if he's mad or embarrassed or what exactly the expression on Eddie’s face is. They're both silent. How do you even talk about something like this? Do they even need to talk about it? Well, Richie would assume so? Eddie was- while wearing, smelling his jacket. That had to mean something, right? Did Richie even want to know? His dick certainly was curious. 

Richie slowly nodded. The room is quiet as Eddie stands up, hand pressing down on his dick. Half hiding it and half trying to relieve the pressure. All it did was make Richie's own situation worse. Eddie starts to take the jacket off. Slowly. Why the fuck? This is too much. 

“Don't.” 

His voice comes out thick and gravelly, surprising even himself. Eddie looks up. 

“But you came for? Don't you want it back? I mean it's probably really, um, dirty now.” Eddie looks like he's about to cry “Fuck I'm so sorry Richie.” 

“W-why are you apologizing?” 

Because honestly? Why is Eddie apologizing? Why? 

“Cause it's,” he takes a shaky breath “g-gross- why were you even watching? The fuck?” Eddie looks perplexed and embarrassed and a little angry. It's cute. 

A cover joke would be nice right now but unfortunately, the well is a bit dry in that arena. So Richie does the unthinkable. He tells the fucking truth. 

“It- it was hot, I don't know.” 

Crickets for a second. Two seconds. Three. 

“Hot?” Richie wasn't looking at Eddie but he could hear the wide eyes in his voice. Shit, he was so fucked. The hole keeps getting deeper. 

“Yeah,” their eyes meet “Eddie you're wearing my fucking jacket and getting off. That's fucking hot.” 

“O-oh.” 

What else is there to say? Richie’s lost. And Eddie is staring at him. Probably because Richie is staring at him too. Should he say something? He wishes he had a joke right now but he's too shocked. His world kind of got flipped. 

“Yeah.” God, he wants to kiss Eddie right now. His lips look really soft in this light, and on a normal night, Richie would be able to ignore it. Put it at the back of his head. Not tonight. No not tonight. Not when Eddie is standing in front of him wearing his jacket and is hard as shit. He feels himself move forward, head a collection of toddler scribbles and static. 

Eddie's right in front of him now, the soft pink lighting making him look so fucked out. 

“Eddie,” Richie breathes it out and god the way Eddie squirms at it “Eddie- I really want to fuck you.” 

Little pink lips gasp and it sends shivers Richie’s spine. 

“Are you fucking making fun of me?” He looks so angry. Eyebrows all scrunched, mouth in a pout. Richie doesn't even answer. No. He just leans down and mouths at the soft skin under Eddie's jaw. It's bold and he nearly pulls back when Eddie stiffens. But then there's a catch of breath and the smaller boy is putty under him. 

“Richie- ah-” Richie bites him just slightly and it has Eddie arching into his thigh. He can feel how hard he is, shit. “w-what the f-uh-uck?” All Richie replies with is a hum and grinds his thigh up into Eddie's crotch. Small fingers tangle themselves into the fabric of Richie's sweater. Eddie moans at the contact and grinds back

“Chee, please- I need an explanation. This,” Richie’s hands slip under his jacket. The one that Eddie is wearing. The one he was getting off with. His hands find Eddie’s hips and he squeezes. 

Then Eddie pushes him away. Richie is stunned for a moment, his lips feel cold without Eddie under them. Eddie. Eddie is staring at him, honey brown iris nearly disappearing behind blown pupils. His little chest is heaving like Richie destroying his neck was a workout. Speaking of his neck, dark red patches are blooming under his jaw and a little down from it. Fucking hell. 

Rich whines “Eddie, fuck, can we just- we can talk after. Just,” He motions down at his dick “I’m hard as shit.” 

“Yeah, well, so am I.” Richie can tell. There’s a tiny wet spot on his baby blue briefs. His hands twitch. 

“I can see that. Seriously Eds-”

“Don’t call me that,” 

“Eddie,” Yes, Richie is whining at this point, but holy hot damn he can’t even make proper sentences as this point “can we please save the words for later- I’m about three seconds away from exploding.” Eddie bites his lip. It’s a contemplative gesture but Richie gets impossibly hotter under the skin. He watches the other’s every movement for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. As much as Richie wants this, possibly needs this, he doesn’t want to make Eddie uncomfortable. If Eddie said no he would respectfully accept it and waddle home with a case of permanent blue balls. 

But there’s no discomfort, and Eddie’s hesitation is waning. Instead, Eddie looks at him, eyes as hot as the fire in Richie’s stomach. 

“Fine,” he breathes “fuck me then.” 

Richie barely has time to register the words before Eddie is back on him, fingers slipping into Richie’s belt loops and pulling him harshly against his chest. Lips crash back into his and Richie can’t help the moan that slips out of him. The kiss is slow, yet purposefully and aggressive. Richie’s hands slip under his jacket again and he lets them explore freely. Tight muscle moving under soft skin, slick with a thin layer of sweat. He runs a finger up Eddie’s spin, feeling every little bump. Then he runs them back down, and down, all the way to the waistband of those tight little baby blue boxers. 

Richie breaks the kiss for just a moment and Eddie scowls. Their eyes meet and Richie can’t help but smirk as he slides his hands under the band and over the curve of Eddie’s ass. The reaction he gets is not the one he’s expecting. 

Eddie smirks back, rolling his hips back, his ass pushing back against Richie’s hands. The air leaves Richie’s lungs. 

“You really wanna play like that, Trashmouth?” 

Holy hell. Richie is dead. This is his ghost. Richard Tozier has passed away and is somewhere between heaven and hell, watching this all go down. Eddie backs him up until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He doesn’t even remember when they got turned around. With a small push from inconspicuously strong hands, he lands softly on the bed. Eddie sinks down between Richie’s legs and palms him through his jeans. 

“Ah- F-uh-uck. Eddie.” 

“You like that?” His hand tightens around Richie’s clothed dick, “You want more?” 

Richie lifts his head, nodding rapidly.

“Use your words,” his eyes are dark, hair messily falling in his face and Richie wonders when Eddie got this commanding “you never shut up anyway.” 

Maybe this isn’t any different from normal Eddie. Whatever, it’s fucking sexy. 

“Yes, please, mor-ah, more.” God, he sounds wrecked even to himself. Breathy and whipped. But he doesn’t care. He just wants Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

And Eddie he gets. 

The little fuck now has a devious smile. “Sit up.” Richie does as he’s told quickly, snapping up at the waist, careful not to hit Eddie. “Good boy.” 

Wow. Maybe that might be a thing for Richie. A sound worms it’s way up from the back of his throat, something between a whine and a groan. Where was the bashful little boy from just a few minutes ago? Not that he’s complaining… 

Tiny fingers undo his jean buttons and pull down the zipper. Cool air hits his thinly clothed cock and he whimpers. “Ed’s-“ He’s cut off by a glare and a mouth over his boxers. 

“Oh jesus fuck,” Richie moans. Eddie’s mouth is hot and wet and feels so good on him. 

Eddie mouths him through his boxers for a bit and Richie watches intently, hands fisted in the comforter below him. His eyes never leave the movement of those unfairly plush lips, the strings of saliva that trail up when he lifts his head, the small fingers that grip at Richie’s thighs for support. It’s agonizing and feels so good but he wants more. He wants Eddie’s lips on his dick, no barriers. 

So he decides to speed up the process. He pushes Eddie off, and is met with an annoyed gaze. Before the other can say anything, Richie reaches down and pulls himself out of his boxers. 

Eddie just stares. And stares. Just at Richie’s dick. Embarrassment starts to creep into him and he squirms a bit. 

“What?” there's a small squeak to his voice and the embarrassment doubles. Eddie’s eyes fly to his, round and surprised and hungry. 

“You’re a douche,” Richie gives him a puzzled look and is met with a glare “I can’t believe you.” 

Oh damn. Did he fuck up? Should he not have pulled his dick out? Did he read this wro- 

“Why are you this fucking big? That's not fucking fair.” 

Oh. Richie’s blush deepens. He’s still at a loss for words so he just shrugs.

Eddie takes him in his hand, glaring straight into his eyes as he does so. The feeling is overwhelmingly good. His eyes screw shut, and his mouth falls open. Something hot and wet slides up the side of his dick. It’s his tongue. Oh fuck. Eddie fucking Kaspbrak has his fucking tongue on his dick. 

It gets better. When Eddie reaches the top, he takes Richie’s head into his mouth, tongue continuing slow circles. It’s slick and tight and Richie lets out a loud moan. Teeth graze his skin just a bit (but very deliberately) and he gets the message- be quiet or perish. 

Richie tries his best. He really does but as Eddie slides further and further down his cock, his cheeks hollowed out, slick skin wrapped around him almost completely. He’s shaking, biting the side of his hand. It’s not like Richie’s never thought about getting a blowjob before. He has. Lots of times. But he never imagined it would feel this good. Eddie does a thing with his tongue, licking under Richie’s head and then he swoops down in one graceful movement, taking Richie wholly into his mouth. Richie lets out a low whine as quietly as he can. He reopens his eyes, and they instantly meet with Eddie’s. Soft lips stretch around the base of his cock, honey eyes filled with tears, pupils blown, cheeks flushed. Eddie had been watching him, and for some reason that gave Richie the urge to touch him. So he did. 

He releases the bite on his hand, wipes it off (because Eddie wouldn’t like spit on his face...or would he?), and gently strokes Eddie’s face. He leans into it, humming softly. Richie doesn’t think Eddie realized the impact the sound has. His cock throbs and he feels a familiar pressure build up. 

“Eddie I-“ before he can finish his warning, Eddie pulls off, whipping his mouth and surging up to meet Richie’s lips with his own. He tasted salty, like skin and how precum smells. It wasn’t gross actually, in fact it was quite hot. Extremely hot. Richie curls a hand into the curls at the base of Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer. The kiss was open mouthed and Eddie wasted no time trying to slip his tongue into Richie’s mouth. It’s intense. The taste of himself on Eddie’s tongue, the wet slide of skin, and the soft huffs Eddie makes every time he shifts. The kiss lasts for maybe a minute but for Richie it feels like an hour, and it’s still not enough. Eddie looks at him now, lips slick with spit. He looks like a picture. Soft pink light thrown across his tanned skin, eyes dark, irises blown and glittering. His hair is a mess. 

Richie reaches up with one hand and smooths down the mess just a little. “You’re a fuckin creep.” Eddie sighs, and leans into Richie’s palm. There’s a drop in Richie’s stomach. Creep. Yeah. He knows he is. He feels gross all of a sudden, gross like he always does when he thinks of Eddie. 

But then Eddie is kissing him again, it’s not that hot searing kiss from before. It’s slow and steady, and Richie finds himself kissing back. The feeling is still there, clawing at the inside of his stomach, but his want out weighs it. He pushes against Eddie’s stomach and feels the muscles in Eddie’s stomach flutter. Eddie and him are now slowly grinding against one another, lips moving languidly in sync. Eddie pushes Richie gently down to the mattress. They’re lips never part and the gesture is so loving that Richie almost feels like there's more to this. Like Eddie actually loves him back. He knows that it’s just his mind playing tricks, so he ignores it, and ignores the pit in his stomach. Eddie feels nice laying on top of him like this, he’s warm and just the right amount of weight. The kiss heats up a little as Eddie rolls hips down on Richie. 

Richie can’t help but moan, and this seems to encourage Eddie because Eddie does it again, this time slower and harder. Air struggles to get into his lungs and Richie gasps right as Eddie’s clothed cock slides against Richie. His gasp breaks the kiss and Eddie takes this opportunity to move his lips to Richie’s throat. A moan leaves his lips. Eddie nips the skin under his jaw, Richie’s mouth goes slack and Eddie pushes his index and middle finger past his lips. It kind of surprises Richie, but he rolls with it. He slides his hand from Eddie’s hair to cup the fingers in his mouth, and he sucks, rolling his tongue on them. It feels  
surprisingly good. Like. Really good. He feels Eddie’s lips leave his neck as hot puffs of air land on his ear. 

“I’m going to stretch. Watch me.” Eddie breathes. 

Richie is confused, Eddie slides off of him and settles on his bed next to him. Did he mess up? Why was Eddie needing to stretch? Did he not after his run? 

“Wha-“ Richie starts. 

“I said watch, not commentate.” 

The comment burns like the rest of him, Eddie’s eyes looking so mean and dark and wonderful. God he loves it. 

Eddie leans back and slides off his boxer briefs and oh. Oh. Is it a site. He’s not big, but he’s pretty. Richie’s seen kind of a lot of dicks. He’s no stranger to shoplifted play girls, but wow. Eddie could definitely get a feature if he wanted to. Then Eddie takes the hand Richie had in his mouth and slides it slowly down to his hole, the middle finger slowly pushing in. 

Richie wasn’t confused anymore. 

He watched as Eddie’s fingers, slick with Richie’s spit (god that’s a fucking hot thought), disappear into the plush skin of his ass. They move in and out in tandem, and slowly speed up, and then slow down, and then they scissor and holy fuck. Richie has to hold the base of his dick to keep from cumming. Yeah he’s pathetic, he knows. 

Eddie’s breathes are labored, and he’s letting out a small succession of quiet moans. Looking up Richie can see tears rolling down his face and for a split second is worried until Eddie’s eyes snap open and immediately meet his. His tongue darts out, swiping his bottom lip. 

“Richie,” he whines softly, “I can take you now.” 

Richie can’t speak. He really can’t. God this has to be a dream. It fucking has to be. 

“I’m riding you.” 

Richie nods and goes to take off his pants but Eddie stops him. 

“Leave them, I-“ He goes pink and for a split second his eyes dart away from Richie’s, they stay away for a second. When they meet his again, Eddie’s voice comes out as a whisper “I- I’ve thought about it like this. Like. Like with you- with clothes on. Cause you couldn’t- we couldn’t wait.” 

Yeah. Richie’s dreaming. He’s hallucinating all of this. Eddie now climbing back on him? His imagination. Eddie taking his throbbing dick out of his hands? Not real. Eddie lining up, and slowly sinking onto him? Fuck. Yeah this is real. So Real. 

Richie is groaning lowly, Eddie’s blunt fingernails dig into the soft skin on Richie’s stomach and it’s so. good. Eddie is mumbling, now fully bouncing on Richie’s. 

“So hot. Think about this a-ah all the t-time.” 

Richie bucks up into him, earning himself a squeak out of the other, his hands coming to rest on Eddie’s hips. Eddie places one of his own on top of Richie’s and squeezes. 

“Tou-uh-ch me. Hands’r so ni-ce.” 

He manages a strangled, “Where?” and Eddie guides his hand to his dick, pressing it on to his length. 

Doing as he’s told, Richie takes a hand off of Eddie’s hips and wraps it around his cock. He brings to jerk him, hard and fast, when Eddie grips his wrist, fixing him with a glare. 

“Slow.” 

Richie does as he’s told again, and starts slowly stroking. Eddie lets out a long moan, softly he thrusts into the ring of Richie’s hand and rocking back down on Richie’s cock. 

They find a good rhythm like that. It doesn’t last long though because Eddie’s getting faster, unintelligible words tumble out of his, his fingers scraping at Richie’s thighs. Richie can hardly breathe. The world is spinning and the only pin point of focus he has is Eddie. Eddie with his eyes fluttering. Eddie with slick lips. Eddie with rose colored cheeks. Eddie, stretched around him. Eddie with his dick, his perfect fucking dick, in richie’s hand. 

“H-harder.” Eddie moans. This time Richie really doesn’t need to be told, he slams himself into Eddie over and over again, making the smaller boy pant. Grossly hot, wet slapping noises fill the room. It’s somehow so quiet and so loud at the same time and it’s enough for Richie. 

He has to bite his hand to keep from screaming as he finishes. The light disappears for a second and he’s swimming in the pleasurable darkness of the afterglow, Eddie still riding him like his life depends on it. Dimly he can feel Eddie tighten around him, and the splatter of warm liquid as it spurts onto his stomach. 

He does, however, fully feel the weight of Eddie fall onto his chest, the former breathing just as hard as the latter. For a moment they both just lay there. Richie traces patterns onto Eddie’s back, mind fuzzy and giddy. 

“So,” He says. 

“So,” Eddie echos. 

“So,” Richie forces his next up to look Eddie in his eyes “I might have some questions.” 

Eddie nods, opens his mouth, but whatever he’s about to say never makes it out of his mouth. 

Down stairs a door slams open and Eddie is pushing off of Richie. 

“Go.” 

“But,” 

“If you ever want to do this agian- or even see me agian- fucking go.” 

After that it’s a blur. Clothes were thrown at him, assumably his. Then he’s half falling down the side of the Kaspbrak casa due to how fast he scrambles down the damn lattice. He drives down the street like a bat out of hell. 

He makes it home in record time, the night still so surreal. He never got to talk about it. But, maybe that was for the best? Maybe. Questions could wait. 

And Eddie had made it definitely clear. 

There would be a next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Hoped you liked this! I’m planning in making a series based on this so if you have any thoughts please let me know!


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